Charlie

I was about 10 and staying with my grandmother. She had a photo of the son of a friend of hers. It was a black and white professional studio portrait (from the chest up, fully clothed) of a handsome, smiling young man, nothing erotic about it, but I found that I was fascinated by his face, and kept wanting to retreat to my room and masturbate.

All the photos, except for the headless selfie, look like they are from a professional commercial model shoot. Considering that his only text is "Full time Xxx active cock horse." it is surprising that there is no verifying photo of that body part. (It does seem to indicate that he is not a native English speaker, or it would say "horse cock.")

One wonders how many of their flies are open ("daisy chain"!)

I know it's picky, but when he calls himself a "qualified masseuse" it makes me wonder what kind of "qualification" he has, if he doesn't know that a masseuse is a woman.

I recently went to a rent.men link from a review, and the escort had posted 97 photos! At least they all seemed to be different (the only reason I scrolled through them all was curiosity about why there were so many). Then there are other ads with fewer photos, but they are so similar that more variety would be useful (think: eight selfies in a locker room). I would think that 12-15 photos in different poses, outfits, settings, etc. would be ideal. (How much can one learn from ten photos of the same cock?)

I am a weekly Bridge player and would love to join the group, but unfortunately I won't be present for the weekend this year. Keep me in mind for next year.

You can spend the day relaxing at the pool. Oops! It's cold and raining.

He must be Ivy League: he knows the adjective is "dominant," not "dominate."

I can just hear you two singing "Over the river and through the woods..."

Many advertisers on rent.men have one or two photos just of their feet, which I assume is intended to be a signal to foot fetishists, so they must encounter them reasonably often.

A friend of mine used to work for Doris Day and still goes to visit her a couple of times per year. She says Doris is in great shape

We celebrate the day we met, because it was also the day that we decided to live together for the rest of our lives. He never can remember our wedding anniversary, which was almost 45 years later.

Now, this one belongs in the tag team fantasy thread.

I hope that is a typo:confused:

This kind of thing happens, and it is hard for either side to know whether it is legitimate if it is a first time meeting. Years ago when visiting NYC, I made an afternoon appointment with a well known escort, but woke up that morning with a terrible sore throat that I suspected might develop into a fullblown headcold. I called him at 9am to let him know why I had to cancel, and said I would re-schedule at some time in the future. He became angry, and blocked all further calls from me, not only that day but for weeks afterwards. I decided that maybe I had inadvertently dodged an unsatisfactory hire, and gave up trying to re-schedule. (This site didn't exist in those days, so I couldn't discuss it here.)

Kobi and Tomer, an Israeli couple whom I hired in NYC in 1993. One dark with a huge dick, the other blond with a fabulous body, both handsome and very masculine. It was the only time in my life that I was simultaneously plugged in both ends, like something out of a porn film. I never saw their ad again.

I never met Golda Meir or Elizabeth Taylor, but I did have dinner with Martin Luther King, though not one on one.

I was 17, he said he was 18, but I now think he was a few years older. He picked me up in a public men's room and took me back to his room in an SRO on the lower East Side. I had never done anything and didn't know what to do, or even what was possible to do. He taught me how to give and get a blow job, and how to fuck and get fucked. He was also the first man I ever french-kissed. The whole experience lasted about three hours, and I was exhilarated. I never saw him again.

I have never been asked to be a best man. The best man at my own wedding was a fellow poster on this site.

It probably wouldn't even have occurred to me that it might have something to do with our escort appointment. I would have assumed a terrorist incident or other sort of violent crime at the hotel, and would definitely have backed away.

I have written an absolutely honest autobiography. I also have 46 years of daily journals, in which I have recorded everything of note to me, including such details as how much I paid Escort X on Sept. 4, 1982, and what acts we engaged in; my opinion of an operatic performance at Covent Garden in March 1974; where I ate dinner on July 5, 1997; what lie I told my high school class reunion committee in 2005 to avoid going to their get-together; the death from AIDS of someone I fucked at an orgy in Baltimore in 1966, etc., etc., ad nauseam. The journals alone fill a very long file cabinet drawer. An academic library to which I have given a substantial financial bequest has agreed to accept and archive all these documents and keep them closed for ten years after my death, after which they will be available to anyone. There are no Jeff Stryker dildos, handcuffs or lacy underpants to worry about. But then there are the thousands of my posts on this site.....

"We'll keep the light on for you."

That is the classic "special offer for new subscribers". I have been getting it for 15 years.

You have to fuck pretty fast to cum on the Northern Line between Leicester Square and Waterloo! I could walk more quickly between those two stops.